


But I Cannot Be Without You (Perhaps Not to Be is to Be Without Your Being, Remix)

by Narlth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narlth/pseuds/Narlth
Summary: Merlin is nothing without his magic.But he would be less than nothing without Arthur.There's no question which of the two he would sacrifice, even if by giving up one, he risks loosing the other.





	But I Cannot Be Without You (Perhaps Not to Be is to Be Without Your Being, Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Detochkina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Perhaps Not to Be is to Be Without Your Being](https://archiveofourown.org/works/953688) by [Detochkina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/pseuds/Detochkina). 



> This many not make a massive amount of sense if you haven't read the original, so be warned. 
> 
> Detochkina,  
> As soon as I read the original I just knew I had to remix it. There was just something about this particular scene that called for the gaps to be filled in.  
> I hope you think I did your universe justice <3

It’s easy, so easy to sink back into the darkness of the realm. 

It’s like falling.

He gives himself no specific destination, rather letting the lapping pull of the darkness guide him deeper. 

Relish in the familiar embrace, the realm tugs at him, seeking magic as it always does. Now though, each touches is not longer smooth, but instead is rough against his skin, sandpaper like, scratching against his innards. 

He’s accepted by it, despite no longer having a lick of magic to call his own. 

The darkness _knows_ him.

It's a familiar comfort, the light of the real world having grown foreign- blinding to Merlin over the past months. leaving him feeling open and exposed in a way that was difficult to put into words.

He stops falling abruptly, stumbling, extremities tingling with the creeping onset of numbness.

He staggers forwards, exhaustion already cloying at his senses, tugging at his limbs, trying to drag him down. 

Each step forwards is an effort, his shoes sinking into the soft ground. The air smells like the Earth just after a rainfall, though he knows real rain has never licked this ground.

He wraps his arms around himself, failing to suppress a shiver.

His heart aches. The vision of Arthur lying prone on his hospital bed, skin paler than it should be, shadows encircling his eyes. For that first instant he had thought himself too late, that his distance had been too far, that Arthur had slipped through his fingers.

The original plan had been to get in and out without being noticed by anyone. He just hadn't counted on Arthur himself stirring. 

Merlin hadn't realised at first that Arthur had awoken, selfishly indulging himself in a moment of reminiscence, then even after seeing that the blond was awake, sliding his own cold fingers between warm ones, like they had never parted ways at all.

Regret for time lost between them pulls the corners of his mouth down.

How did everything go so wrong?

Taking a few clumsy steps forward, Merlin bites harshly at his bottom lip. He refuses to think of what might happened to Arthur, if he hadn’t sacrificed the last of his magic to heal him.

Losing his magic had always been a terrifying prospect, but that terror could never hold a candle to the fear of losing Arthur forever.

He can never put into words the dread that had consumed his whole being when he had felt the druid forcibly drag Arthur deeper.

Eyes squeezing shut as if to block out the images, he hears his own pitiful whimper as it bubbles out of him, unrestrained.

If those who didn’t know him saw him in this moment, Merlin knew they would laugh at the very suggestion that he was one of the most powerful magic sorcerers of the age.

With eyes red from unshed tears, hair tangled, and posture curled in on himself, he’d be lucky if anyone could believe he were anything but a frightened child.

Trying to pull his thoughts away from his fear, they instead turn to the words Arthur had spoken.

Frustration and anger burns through him, recalling Arthur's words of harsh recrimination against himself. Merlin had always known that Arthur did not hold himself in high regard compared to others, but the utter self loathing in his voice as he had referred to himself as useless. 

There was damage there, that Merlin knew would take a long time to repair, and which he had only made worse, with the way they had parted ways.

Nails biting into his arms he wishes, now more than ever that he could have done something to stop the past year playing out how it had done.

His very being aches with the separation from his love- his other half. 

Shaking his head, Merlin stumbles, the last of his energy already leaving him. 

There's a tremble in his muscles, his strength already starting to bleed away.

He’d always known for a long as he could remember that his magic was different. Off the charts immeasurably light. 

It wasn’t until later, however that he had learnt that without his magic, he would not survive. That is was as much a part of his life force the blood that runs through his veins.

It’s only now that the he comes to understand the full implications of that, feeling keenly the absence of his magic like an unending hole deep inside his soul. The sensation of having the very thing that gives you life absent.

He’s fading fast, grey creeping into the ever edges of his vision, the last of his energy slowly eked away by the realms surroundings, that by the same virtue, is the only thing now sustaining him.

A chill is already starting to settle into his bones. Replacing the the seemingly eternal heat of magic that used to reside there.

Exhausted Merlin sinks to his knees, damp seeping instantly through the worn fabric of his jeans.

He can feel the magic of the ground.

It had always been a constant background hum, but now it’s loud in his ears, drowning out everything else.

His very being called out to that earth magic, practically singing as it compels him; and with no fight left, he obeys.

Merlin’s bent forwards, arms braces against the ground, while his forehead comes to rest on top of them.

Everywhere his skin meets the earth he can feel the magic of the realm. Not pulling and taking as the air does, but instead giving.

It’s not enough, and without a thought Merlin presses his hands deeper into the sodden dirt. Skeletal fingers, looking stark white for a moment in the low light, before they are obscured, mard in streaks of brown.

The very tips of his finger burn, the emptiness that has already settled into him at it’s very strongest in his extremities. It wars painfully, with the slim trickle of magic that soaks into his skin.

There’s not enough magic in the earth, he knows it in the back of his mind, overwhelmed by his body's craving, he can’t help but bow to it’s demands. 

His mind is drifting, thought tumbling away, until he’s lost all concept of time. Only vaguely aware that he’s now lying completely prone.

He has no idea how long he’s been laid there, limbs now trembling from both the cold and the strain of keeping himself conscious.

It’s a losing battle, wakefulness.

Mud slowly climbing over him, covering him inch by inch, the realm lulling him into it’s heart. An unspoken promise to guard him.

Then he knows nothing more.

~

A flood of warmth, setting his nerves alive is the first thing he feels, as he’s awoken.

Before there’s pain.

Something forcing it’s way through his skin, into his very soul.

He’s aware that his mouth is open, but whether he is screaming or not, he has no idea, as his senses are consumed only with the feeling of magic.

Magic much strong than that or the earth, much warmer, brighter, blinding- almost.

Then in the next second it stops.

All that’s left is cold.

His eyes peel open. A barely there, unnoticable fraction.

Vision filled with the site of sun soak blond hair, Merlin’s heart soars, filled with love for the person he knows is with him.

Before he lets himself fall gladly back into unconsciousness.


End file.
